


Breathe

by hopeless_romantic_spoonie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Established Relationship, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23440159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_romantic_spoonie/pseuds/hopeless_romantic_spoonie
Summary: When Loki sees you spiraling into an anxiety attack, he uses a popular countdown method to help pull you out of it.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	Breathe

“Talk to me.”

“Hmm?”

Calloused but always so soft - except when you didn’t want them to be - fingertips brushed up your wrists to envelop your hands. A gentle but firm tug pulled your thumbnail from between your worrying teeth. It hurt, throbbed with your racing pulse, and Loki clicked his silver tongue before muttering an unintelligible spell to ease the pain. “You’re anxious.”

And why wouldn’t you be? Everything seemed to be falling apart around you. Routines that brought you security slowly but surely scattered and crushed between a constant barrage of dizzying numbers and contradictory facts delivered with stern voices and drawn-in eyebrows. Friendships strained as tensions rose and it was harder each day to find the drive to pick up your phone and connect. Numbers and tips and facts and what-if’s and definitely-will-be’s that squeezed the air from your lungs just thinking about it. Wrapped around your heart in a vice that had you gasping for air in the too-small room and throat tighten around voiceless sobs.

“Come here, little one. Come here.”

His expertly sculpted features swam and blurred before your eyes, and your grabbing hands curled into the soft fabric of his forest green tunic when he pulled you sideways into the cradle of his lap. It was second nature to fold yourself into his embrace and tuck your head underneath his strong chin. The same hand that healed your raw thumb cradled the back of your head against his chest. Chilled skin seeped through the damnable layer of clothing to soothe the flush of your skin.

Words were too hard to filter through your muddled mind, but anxiety attuned your ears to every sound around you. And none was sweeter than his velvet-lined voice curling around you to match the gentle caress of his hand down your spine.

“Do as I say, and I promise you’ll feel better. Can you do that for me, sweetling?”

A blink. Bottom lip released from between chattering teeth. A nod.

“Look around our sanctuary. Tell me five things that you see.”

Darting eyes glanced around your shared room. Settling on the oddest things. A blurry snapshot of you together on your first date, Loki scowling at the phone while you grinned ear to ear. A stuffed toy, cheaply made and smelling of chemicals, won at a fair with the help of some clever magic. An empty soda can you’d abandoned after Loki had begged you to get some sort of liquid in you - water tasted stale and the fizzy caffeine had made you feel alive for that fleeting moment it coursed through your veins. A loose thread that stretched over the curve of his generous bicep that flexed to hold you closer. The small points of your feet beneath the blanket that Loki wrapped around you both in a cocoon of safety and warmth.

“Good. Now, what are four things that you can touch?”

Circling thumbs pressed into the tightly woven threads of his tunic. Smooth, pliable, but strong. Ebony waves caught between your temple and his collar-bone, silky and slippery when you attempt to trap one in your reaching fingers. Lifting your head, you pressed the pad of your pointer finger in between his furrowed brows to erase the crease of concern marring his creamy skin. Only to have it return when you dropped your traveling touch to trace his bottom lip, ever expressive and always softer than the harsh, indifferent mask he sometimes wore would have you believe.

“That’s my Love. Tell me three things you can hear.”

The steady drum of his heart pounding his love and support to you out through his chest right underneath your ear. The whisper of his hands rasping over the blanket over your leg, stroking long motions of serenity in time with your slowed breathing. Just the faintest gasp when you shifted in his lap to press your nose into the crook of his neck and hold tight with your hands anchored to his broad shoulders.

A sigh. Faint pressure from his lips against your temple and the tickle they left behind when he asked for, “Two things you can smell, now.”

The clean musk of his skin, bergamot and cinnamon and leather and the hint of something earthy. Cedarwood? The scent you’d recognize anywhere after clouds billowed out from the bathroom to greet you each morning as you reclined in your luxurious sheets. And maple syrup, decadent enough to make your mouth water at the thought of the pancakes he had convinced you to help him eat in the splintery morning sunlight streaming through the window. He’d looked so earnest, so kind, kneeling next to you among the mussed blankets with a tray of coffee and breakfast treats that there hadn’t been a single protest uttered from your smiling mouth.

“That’s it. Just one more, and you’ll be with me again. One thing you can taste.”

The salt of his jawline, so sharp you’d cut yourself if you lingered too long, so you nipped the tender flesh before it could. The corner of his mouth, turned upwards with a rumbling purr that shook your chest flush against his, held a tantalizing mixture of bitter coffee and sticky sweet treats that made you want _more_.

Tension seeped out of his body and his deft fingers molded to your sides so he could properly gaze down at you with relief flooding his elegant face. His forehead dropped to rest against yours, and you breathed each other in like you’d been drowning for weeks. It truly felt like it. Time that stretched for an eternity in five minutes and yet had hours disappearing in the blink of a glazed eye.

And then it stood still, prisoner to his rapt attentions and fervent whispers.

“There you are. You’re safe, and I have you. And I love you. Do you have me?”

It was your turn to furrow your brows and frown up at him, your head tilted to the side as if you could shake the confusion from your thoughts. “I do, and I love you.”

The steel bands of his arms held you tight, and he buried his face into your hair, guiding you to the do the same, rocking you slowly on your bed. “Good. Then just breathe with me, little dove, and I promise that everything will work out in the end. Just keep breathing.”


End file.
